


Severely

by Shealezz



Category: F. T. Island, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Second Chances, Smut, Unrequited Love, but its like sweet loving smut, fluffy fluff, jikook - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shealezz/pseuds/Shealezz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jungkook will do everything in his power to obtain Jimin’s love again and to ensure that death doesn’t take Jimin for a second time. The hardest part? Jimin has no recollection of who Jungkook is, and Jungkook only has seven days.</p>
<p>(Based on the MV Severely by FT Island)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Severely, I Guess I Loved You Too Severely

Everyone has their breaking points, and everyone falls short sometimes. What matters isn't how many times you’ve hit the ground, but what matters is the one time you got up, and stayed up. Sometimes when you get back up, you’re still bleeding, but living.

 

Jimin saw the world this way. Jungkook didn’t. To Jungkook, there was nothing better to do with mortality but joke about it.

 

Mortality. A meaningless word to a nineteen-year-old college student who lived alone. But the lost life that lies quiescent twenty feet in front of him, covered in flowers and tears of loved ones, was the one that was able to change Jungkook’s own. It was a life of someone with a smile that could make flowers grow. A life taken a hundred years too early.

 

Tears hit glass with a  _tap_  and echo through the chapel, roll down the front of Jimin’s perfect smile, and off the frame. It’s as if the tears could belong to Jimin’s flawless picture itself, weeping for those who never got the chance to say goodbye.

 

Jungkook’s hands tremble and the frame shakes as he thinks about the first time he realized what Jimin was doing to him; how he changed his life to amount to more than Jungkook had ever imagined.

 

_“I’m just a fool that can’t live without you, Park Jimin.”_

 

_“I could say the same to you.”_

 

_“Then I guess we’re both idiots.”_

 

Jimin had a smile that never left, even on his last day. Even when Jungkook woke up late and Jimin had to call him to make sure he was still coming. Even when Jungkook showed up with his shoelaces untied and the pure-hearted boy bent down to fix it for him. Even when it started to rain and Jungkook forgot his umbrella at home. Even when he spilled tea on his nicest suit and Jimin used his own handkerchief to dab it away. Despite his efforts, the tea burnt Jungkook through the sleeve; however, having Jimin close made him numb to the feeling. Thinking about it—how close they had been, how carelessly Jimin’s time to live the fulfilling life he deserved more than anyone had been severed—makes it burn now.

 

Clock gears from the larger-than-life wall clock that sits above the casket click in a beat. Much like a heartbeat, but louder and more haunting. Jungkook never liked that clock. Especially now, when every click from the smallest hand hints another second without Jimin gone by.

 

Using the edge of his sleeve, he wipes at the drops that roll down his cheeks before any more can taint the perfect picture in front of him. If Jimin could see him right now, he wouldn’t want him to cry. He would shake his head, whip out his handkerchief and wipe away Jungkook’s sadness. The handkerchief now drapes over a different picture of Jimin, much younger, at the alter. He looks so happy in that one, too—his chubby cheeks highlighted by the flash of a camera as his happiness radiates through the frame. That smile could make every flower in the Garden of Eden bloom again.

 

Jungkook will never see it as vivid again, though, because Jimin is dead, and so is his flawless smile.

 

Without him, there is nothing stopping Jungkook from rash decisions anymore. There is nothing to keep him grounded besides the hope that maybe, if he could live the rest of his life the way Jimin had lived his, he’ll be granted the chance to see Jimin again when his own time comes. This is where Jimin would tell him,  _There is a time for everything, yours isn’t now._ Or, maybe he  _did_ say it, and Jungkook is able to hear his voice after death as an angel. There wouldn’t be much of a difference if he  _did_ become an angel. Just the wings.

 

Unable to stand the outrageous ticking of the clock and the squeaky old gears any longer, Jungkook stands up to leave the building for the last time. He sets the picture on the pew of the seat in front of him, leaving it out of place for someone else to find and put it back where it belongs.

 

He can almost hear Jimin’s voice in his head again, saying,  _I’ll take care of it for you_. Because Jimin always did. He was always there to clean up Jungkook’s messes.

 

He can’t now. He’s not here to take care of every flaw in Jungkook and balance it out with a million perfections of his own.

 

Jungkook covers his mouth with his hand to hold back the sobs that fill the silence between the constant ticking. He doesn’t want to risk Jimin seeing him cry anymore. His vision is blurred from tears, and his arms and legs shake as he feels another fit of sobbing crawl up his throat. His stomach tightens in a way that makes him want to throw up.

 

Pushing open the double doors as quick as he can, Jungkook nearly topples down church steps. He barely notices another man walking towards him, until the man’s shoulder connects with his own, sending Jungkook’s body back and he struggles to keep his balance. With his eyes down, he tries to force the tears to stop cascading down his cheeks. He’s in public now, and Jimin isn’t the only person who he wouldn’t want seeing him cry.

 

He wants to walk away, to ignore the stranger and move on with his life, but Jimin’s voice of reason kicks him before he makes does. He blinks away a few more tears and bows. 

 

“Excuse me,” he mutters.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jimin’s voice reassures him.

 

 _Thanks,_  he thinks. At least Jimin’s good conscience is still with him.

 

“I should have been watching where I was going,” Jimin continues.

 

Voices of reason don’t continue. Voices of reason show up when you’re about to be an ass and let you know what you’re doing wrong. Voices of reason don’t wear street clothes and sneakers and carry a duffle bag overflowing with dance clothes. Most of all, voices of reason don’t smile like Park Jimin.

 

“It’s fine,” Jungkook says, blinking away the delusion that this man looks  _exactly_  like Jimin.  _Could_  be Jimin if he were still here.

 

“You look… not okay,” Jimin’s lookalike says. Seeing a face with this many similarities to Jimin make Jungkook feel more sick. Even his voice is the same. Everything from his shoes to the smile that blinds with its perfection is just like Jimin’s.

 

Jungkook can’t hold back the urge to throw his arms around his shoulders, hugging the stranger as tight as he can, and pretend it’s Jimin. He pretends it’s Jimin’s bag dropping to the pavement below, stumbling back when he’s hugged on the street by Jungkook. That it’s Jimin grunting in response before falling silent. Jungkook can only imagine the looks of pity he must be getting from this man who has no idea what’s going on. Neither does Jungkook, if he’s to be honest. Seeing anything that reminds him of Jimin is too much to resist, and he doesn’t care that his tears are soaking into the shoulders of Jimin’s lookalike. The owner of said shoulders seems to mind a lot, though.

 

His hands fall to Jungkook’s hips as he tries to distance himself. The look on the fake Jimin’s face reads confusion and his cheeks are red, and Jungkook finds himself unable to even form an apology for the suddenness of his actions. The stranger picks up the bag Jungkook made him drop, and he slings it over his shoulder, jogging off without one more look at Jungkook.

 

Jungkook can blame him for pushing back. He would do the same if some delusional stranger came up and threw his arms around him.

 

When Jungkook realizes the lightheaded feeling he felt after seeing the man he thought was Jimin hasn’t left, he feels himself falling back onto the pavement. The  _actual_  Jimin’s voice in his head encourages himself to stand up, gather himself, and head for home. It’s a home they shared until recently.

 

Jungkook, embarrassed about acting up in public like this, coughs into his hand and checks around to make sure no one saw him embarrass himself just now. Aside from the cars passing on the less-than-busy street, no one is around. He’s sure he’ll forget about it by tomorrow morning. Maybe the poor man he just hugged for no reason will, too.

 

If it really  _was_ Jimin, he would have stayed to help Jungkook up. Or, Jungkook wouldn’t have fallen in the  _first place_  because Jimin would have hugged him back. He would have whispered into his ear how everything will be alright and that he’ll never let him go. That he will always be there for him. Then he would walk in the same direction that stranger did, to the same crosswalk, with the same duffle bag, and the same pigeon-toed stance as he waits for the sign across the street to turn from a red hand to a fluorescent walking figure. He would turn into the same dance studio at the same time of the morning that man does. He’d be wearing the same shirt with the same sweat stain on the back from years of practicing and pushing himself to his limit.

 

 _I'm dreaming,_ Jungkook tells himself. _Jimin died three days ago._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jungkook collapses onto his couch, exhausted as hell but feeling a little less sick. He spent the last hour hunched over a toilet with a glass of water and some stale crackers that Jimin warned him to throw out a month ago. He’s glad he kept them, else he would still be dry heaving.

 

He tugs an ugly green throw blanket up to his shoulders and flips through repeats of unentertaining variety shows with no idea of what he’s looking for. He’s seen everything that’s on already. Broadcasting channels should try to play new material when they can. The sappy dramas he and Jimin would watch and laugh at together replay last week’s episodes.

 

Jungkook’s life, he thinks, could be one of these dramas right now. A single man whose partner just died cries into a blanket, given to him by the dead partner, and all he can think about is some lookalike that reminds him of everything his dead partner was. Jungkook’s house has been a mess since Jimin left, not unlike the lonely men in these dramas who lost all interest in taking care of themselves. He hasn’t been to work since the accident, and he hasn’t eaten much besides the crackers that refused to stay in his stomach.

 

The whole situation makes him want to cry more, but instead, he chooses to search for sleep. Thoughts of what Jimin could have been, what they could be doing right now, and what Jungkook wishes he would have done to keep Jimin around longer are ubiquitous in his mind. Lyrics from a comeback stage he stopped on when flipping through channels fill the emptiness between his thoughts of regret and heartbreak.

 

_A grown man, a normal looking, grown man_

_Is crying without reason like a four-year-old child_

 

_A grown man, a big and tall, grown man_

_Keeps crying, saying that it hurts, like a child receiving a shot_

 

_They say it’ll get better when time passes_

_They say that new skin will grow and heal_

_But why can’t I, why am I like this?_

_Why do my tears increase as time goes on?_

 

Even though he wants nothing more than to drift off, he can’t help let out an anguished laugh at how perfect they lyrics accompany how he’s feeling. 

_A grown man, a fearless grown man,_

_Cries again today till his eyes get red, like a child who lost his mother_

 

_They say it’ll get better when time passes_

_They say that new skin will grow and heal_

_But why can’t I, why am I like this?_

_Why do my tears increase as time goes on?_

 

_Like a cold, if only I can be sick for a few days_

_And like it’s nothing, fill up that seat with another person_

_And start a different love—if only_

 

_I probably can’t do that, I probably won’t_

_I can’t even forget so I’ll live with the memories_

_Because of one woman, a grown man like me_

_Is only crying all day long_

 

Even after he turns off the TV, even after he drops the remote and kicks it under the couch, even after the words have faded, the band left the stage, and leave the room in a hollow silence, the lyrics reverberate in Jungkook’s mind.

 

“Because of Jimin,” Jungkook sighs. “Because of Jimin, a grown-ass man like me is crying all day long.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
When Jungkook wakes up, it’s Tuesday. Jimin used to wake up early on Tuesdays and leave for dance practice. After giving Jungkook a goodbye kiss and digging through his drawer of things at Jungkook’s place, he would tell Jungkook to eat well and to make sure he locks the door behind him when he leaves.

 

_“Someone is going to sneak in and kidnap you from me if you forget to lock it. Or steal something.”_

 

_“Like what?”_

 

_“Well, you don’t have anything of value here. Maybe your heart?”_

 

_“My heart? You already stole that a long time ago.”_

 

_“Aw, you’re being a corny romantic!”_

 

_“Shut up and kiss me so you can leave.”_

 

It’s already noon, and the door is still unlocked.

 

The ugly green blanket he clutches against his chest does little to calm his mind from the nothing that overwhelms it. He wants to find something funny, but he can’t laugh. He wants to smile, but his lips form anything but a frown. He wants to be crying tears of  _joy_ when he sees Jimin accept another award for his outstanding performance, and see him crying on stage in return… Not cry for the loss of a life so precious with no one but himself.

 

In the back of his mind, Jungkook wonders how Jimin’s dance team is coping. He was able to recognize a few of them at the service, but his mind had been too shaken to comprehend half of what was going on. That, along with blurry vision from headache and tears, had made it impossible for him to focus.

 

The team had a big performance scheduled on January twenty-four. On the first day Jimin didn’t show up early. Or on time. Or at all.

 

The phone Jungkook has been neglecting for days blinks red from the coffee table in front of him, temporarily bringing his mind away from his grief. The screen flashes, warning him of his low battery.

 

“January seventeen?” he says, reading the date that flashes on the lockscreen on Jimin’s hand and his own forming a heart. “Why did I think it was the twenty-eighth?” He rubs his eyes and checks again. His phone must be broken because it’s showing last week’s date. Either that, or he’s becoming delusional again, like when he thought he saw Jimin on the street.

 

Jungkook sits up checks the date on the TV guide. January seventeen. He throws the blanket to his feet and stands up, checking the calendar in his kitchen where they had been counting down the days to his next performance together with red X’s. The last date to have been marked off was the sixteenth.

 

“I’m going  _insane…_ ” The kitchen counter catches him when he stumbles backwards, covering his face in his hands. “I’m insane. I’m seeing things and I’m insane. Jimin died four fucking days ago.”

 

How is he supposed to know what’s real and what’s not when he’s going insane? If there was something he could do to make sure what he thinks is real is real, he’ll do it. He knows that writing down things you know to be true is a good way to do give yourself a reality check, so he scrambles through drawers for a pen and a pad of sticky notes. He sits at the table to start writing, beginning with the basics and going from there.

 

_My name is Jeon Jungkook._

 

_I have one older brother._

 

_I am_

 

He pauses.

 

 _I_ ~~_am_  ~~ _was in love with Jimin_

 

_Jimin died on January twenty-four_

 

_The drunk driver was never convicted_

 

_Today is January 28_

 

_Yesterday, I saw someone who looks like Jimin_

 

_I love Jimin_

 

_I love Jimin_

 

_I love Jimin_

 

_I love J_

 

“Fuck!” Jungkook slams the pen onto the table, cracking it down the side. “I can’t do this!” In his frustration, he throws his chair back. It hits the wall, pressing a dent into the surface. Even if Jimin isn’t here to fix it for him, he doesn’t care.

 

Jungkook doesn’t think twice before storming to the front door, pulling on his shoes and jacket, and slamming it closed behind him, unlocked, because there isn’t anything else to be taken from him. First Jimin, now his sanity, and he has nothing left. All he he can do right now is try to keep breathing, get some air, clear his head, and take a break from the cramped house where Jimin’s shoes weren’t waiting by his like usual.

 

The cold winter air bites his neck, making him shiver. Had Jimin been with him, he would have reminded him to wear a scarf and make sure his coat is buttoned up completely. But Jungkook forgot to wear any neck protection and the buttons hang loosely down his jacket. As he shoves his hands deep into his pockets to at least keep his fingers from going numb, he ignores everyone on the sidewalk around him and doesn’t look before crossing the street.

 

His fingers play with the edge of the newspaper clipping he’s kept in his pocket for days that reads:  _Former Member of Hit Boyband BTS Killed by Drunk Driver._ The paper burns his freezing fingers.

 

With no clear destination, Jungkook wanders wherever his feet take him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the pavement in front of him despite the fact that if Jimin were here, he would remind him to watch his step and keep to the right if walking at a brisk pace as he is now.

 

As he passes a newsstand, Jungkook glances at the newspapers that confirm what his mind had been stuck on. In big red letters across the middle of the front page, it reads that today’s date is, in fact, the seventeenth of January, and he is not insane for thinking it might be. With his mind cleared from his frustration, he brings his eyes up to the building on front of him that he had subconsciously stopped at. It’s a dance studio. Specifically, Jimin’s dance studio. The only dance studio you can see into from the street through large, well-polished windows that give you a clear picture of the perfection that goes on inside.

 

Today, only one person moves to a beat inside. Jimin. Jungkook is sure it’s Jimin because no one else can move their body in such a way that makes Jungkook want to cry. No one else has that winning smile that he shows off to everyone, making their day just a bit brighter than before.

 

It’s not creepy that Jungkook stares, is it? Because he doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off of Jimin’s body that dances to invisible music the way he had when he was living. Or,  _is_  living. Maybe he was given a second chance to make things right. Maybe he has a way of saving Jimin from leaving the world before his time. If this is the case, Jungkook will do everything in his power to make sure that Jimin stays safe  _that_ night, and that he gets away with one more chance at living the full life he deserves so much more than anyone else.

 

As crazy as it seems, Jungkook believes that in this messed up reality, he has been given this second chance. He has one week to save a life, and after making sure Jimin stays safe, he has as long as it takes to make him fall in love with him again. Jungkook has to get Jimin to fall for him before he finds anyone else, though, or this “second chance” granted to him by whatever god is up there will be for nothing.

 

Jimin is still getting ready for the show that hasn’t happened yet. That’s why he’s dancing in the studio like he used to. That’s why he’s not dead yet.

 

After he returns to his formerly-shared house, Jungkook strategizes.

 

_January seventeen_

 

Under the date, the headline reads: _Modern Dance Team Prepares for Local Show._

 

Keeping Jimin away from danger on that night will be hard. If he died once, nothing but Jungkook protecting him will save him this time. Making Jimin fall for him the same way Jungkook is still in deep for him is going to be even harder. The fear that Jimin might find someone else before him makes his heart drop to his stomach. He didn’t get Jimin back just to lose him again.

 

Jungkook’s breath hitches as a terrible thought crosses his mind. If Jungkook isn’t able to make Jimin fall for him before he finds someone else, does he really want him saved? Does he have the strength to save Jimin, even if he can’t have him?

 

It’s an awful way to think, but if Jungkook can’t have Jimin, he isn’t sure he wants anyone else to have the chance, either. Of course, it was just a thought. He wouldn’t actually think about letting the love of his life die in front of him  _twice,_  especially when somehow he was granted the chance to let him live again. No matter how much he wishes he could, he can’t play God.

 

By the time Jungkook has his thoughts together again, it’s almost time for Jimin to be leaving the studio and head home. He’ll be walking back to his own home, not Jungkook’s, like he used to. Soon, though. Soon, after Jimin has dodged death and he’s back in Jungkook’s arms, he’ll be bouncing in through his front door to shower Jungkook with kisses and hold him and laugh with him and cry with him and cuddle and make fun of cheesy dramas and dance to music that isn’t there.

 

Sticking to his coping strategy from before he left, Jungkook takes out a sticky note to write down more things he knows to be true:

 

_I will get Jimin to love me back_

 

_I’ll save him_

 

_I love Jimin_

 

_I love Jimin_

 

He folds it up and sets it in his pocket next to the article.

 

Jimin will be leaving the studio soon. By himself. It’s dark, and you never know what strange people could be lurking around, waiting for someone too generous, like Jimin, to pounce on.

 

Jungkook makes sure he buttons up every button on his jacket before leaving the house, checking his pocket for the key, and locking the door behind him. His plan to have Jimin again will begin tonight when he “accidentally” runs into Jimin outside the studio, offer to walk him home, and ask for his number. He knows every digit by heart already, but he can’t come off as a stalker who already knows everything about him if he’s going to win Jimin’s heart. He has to start over, do everything the right way, get to know him. If Jimin fell in love with him once, he can do it again.

 

After the familiar five minute walk to the block the studio is located, he sees Jimin leaving behind the rest of his members. He carries his duffle bag at his side, unzipped. Someone could come right up and snatch it if Jungkook weren’t watching carefully.

 

Jungkook follows close—but not enough to be noticed— behind Jimin, who is almost at the crosswalk. He is only a couple feet behind Jimin when the sign across the street turns from a red hand to the fluorescent walking man.

 

Jimin takes larger steps to make sure he doesn’t miss it. He’s too focused on his phone in hand to realize what’s going on in front of him and in one singular, painful moment, Jimin’s life flashes before Jungkook’s eyes.

 

Time slows, but the car rushing towards Jimin’s unexpecting body doesn’t.

 

“Jimin!” Jungkook lurches forward and wrapping his arms around Jimin’s waist, just as Jimin takes a step onto the street. They both fall away from the road, Jimin’s bag falling off his shoulder and Jungkook landing next to it. The car passes over the exact spot Jimin was standing at what looked like double the speed limit. It's gone within a second, the same way the car that hit Jimin was.

 

As he struggles to focus his vision, all Jungkook can think is,  _I hope he didn’t hear me say his name._

 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Jimin panics, and is kneeling by Jungkook as soon as he realizes what happened.

 

 _He didn’t._ Jungkook can’t help but smile through the pain. Even when he was the one in danger, he can only think about other’s safety. Typical Jimin.

 

This is the closest he has been to Jungkook since the day he died, and it makes Jungkook want to wrap his arms around him with no intention of letting go, but also to cry his eyes out at the same time. He can’t do either. He can’t even get away with staring at Jimin.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Jungkook manages through a cough. “ _You’re_  the one who almost got hit by a car.” He takes Jimin’s hand when he offers to help him up. It’s nice to feel Jimin’s hand in his again, just like he’s used to. He knows every curve of his fingers, every scar, and every mark. Unfortunately, Jimin has forgotten about his.

 

“I guess I  _could_ have died,” Jimin says, a sheepish smile on his face. “Thanks.” When Jimin bows his head, it stings Jungkook’s heart. Jimin shouldn’t have to be so formal with an apology. A kiss used to work just fine.

 

“No problem,” Jungkook says. He has to stop his voice from shaking from every overwhelming feeling he’s having right now. Fear, relief, love, and regret for everything he should have been there to stop the first time.

 

When Jimin doesn’t say anything, Jungkook fakes a laugh and says, “You’ve knocked me over twice, now.”

 

Jimin’s smile fades to worry.  “I have?”

 

“At the chapel.”

 

Jimin gasps. “I’m  _so_ sorry! I was in a hurry and I, um, when you hugged me I just sort of…got flustered...” As Jimin says this, his perfect smile appears again. Jungkook melts under the smile, ready to jump on Jimin and hug him. He holds back by leaning against the metal of the crosswalk sign.

 

“You looked like someone I knew, that’s all.” He can’t help the grin that appears on his face because he gets to talk to Jimin again. Once he found out about Jimin’s death, Jungkook, like any person, thought it would be the last time he ever got to talk to him. He’s not a very normal person, though.

 

“Sorry for looking like the person you knew. Make sure you give this person two hugs to make up for the one you gave me. I wouldn’t want them to miss out.” Jimin says, which is ironic, because he  _was_  the person he thought he knew, but neither of  _them_ knew it.

 

“Are you cold?” Jungkook asks. “Those shorts don’t look to warm.”

 

“They aren’t,” he admits, “but I have a space heater waiting for me fifteen minutes away.”

 

“So you live around here?”

 

“I do. Just down the street about a mile away.”

 

 _A little under a mile._  “Do you mind if I walk with you the rest of the way?”

 

“You don’t have anywhere you need to be?”

 

_Nowhere but your house. With you. Because you’re alive again somehow and I don’t know how but I’m happy and just want to be with you._

 

Jungkook shakes his head. “I was taking a walk to clear my mind when some idiot almost got run over.” He laughs, then scolds himself for reverting to his casual way of making fun of Jimin, who isn’t the type to get offended easily. When it’s a stranger doing the teasing, he might find it odd.

 

When Jimin laughs again, Jungkook lets out a breath.

 

“I’m glad I was sent an angel to protect me,” Jimin jokes.

 

_You’re the angel._

 

Jimin picks up his bag and refuses Jungkook’s offer to carry it for him. Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to carry Jimin himself the whole way, but settles for walking with him across the street, this time towards his house. He misses the way he used to be able to kiss Jimin when he wanted to on nights like these, not stare in desperation at his face from the side, hoping he’ll smile again or start a conversation so the walk doesn’t grow awkward. He has to dig his nails into his palms to resist grabbing Jimin’s hand.

 

Jungkook pretends he doesn’t know exactly where he is going and how many steps it’s going to take to get there, but he stops almost before Jimin does when they reach his apartment. This is usually where he would invite himself in, eat all of Jimin’s food because he’s too lazy to cook for himself, and lay his head down on Jimin’s lap. This isn’t where they are supposed to stare awkwardly at each other waiting for the other to speak first.

 

“Um, this is my home,” Jimin says, gesturing to the familiar grey building.

 

His room is four floors up. It’s the one with the dead tomato plant hanging off the side of the balcony. But Jungkook isn’t supposed to know this yet, so he doesn’t tease Jimin about it like he always did before.

 

“Do you live alone?” Jungkook asks. It’s killing him that Jimin is here with him again, and all he can do is make small talk with questions he already knows the answers to. It’s  _so_ hard for him not to jump into Jimin’s arms. He wants so bad to be held again.

 

“For now I am.”

 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “For now?”

 

“Mhm. I’m looking for a roommate to help me cut down the cost.”

 

_I’ll live with you. I’ll stay with you forever. Please tell me you want me to be your roommate. Tell me you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you. Tell me you want to drag me upstairs and curl up in bed together and make fun of corny dramas._

 

No, it could turn out poorly. As amazing as it would be to see Jimin every day, he would die from the pain of being so close to Jimin, but be unable to crawl into bed with him and kiss him until the sun came up. Or make him late for practice because he wouldn’t want to let go of Jimin’s hand when he got out of bed. Or hold himself back from sneaking a hug in whenever he could. Or stop himself from waiting like a puppy by the door every time Jimin texts him, telling him he was on his way home.

 

Roommates don’t do that. Soulmates do.

 

“I think I owe you my life.” Jimin’s voice cuts through Jungkook’s thoughts.

 

“Don’t mention it. Anyone would have done it.”  _But I’m glad it was me._

 

“I  _will_ worry about it until I can pay you back.”

 

“You don’t have t—”

 

“Coffee on me tomorrow. You know the one across the street from the the dance studio? I forgot the name, but they have really cute baristas!”

 

This stops Jungkook. A chance to go on a coffee date with Jimin? How could he turn that down?

But at the same time, Jungkook’s stomach turns. He doesn’t want Jimin to look at anyone but him like that. He wants to be the only person Jimin sees as cute. Jimin shouldn’t have eyes for cute baristas. He should only pay attention to Jungkook.

 

“I know the one,” Jungkook sighs.

 

“Does tomorrow at ten work? You don’t work then, do you? Because I could always find another time,” Jimin says says. He sounds like he’s in some sort of hurry. If Jungkook didn’t know him, he would think he’s in a rush to get inside. But he  _does_ know him, and he knows that Jimin starts talking this way when he gets excited or anxious. It warms Jungkook’s heart to know that Jimin is already looking forward to having coffee with him.

 

“That time works perfectly,” Jungkook says.

 

“Great!” Jimin beams. If this was any other time, Jungkook would warn him to keep his voice down and that he was going to wake the neighbors.

 

“Great,” Jungkook repeats.

 

“Great. Before I forget, can I get your name and number?”

 

That much is kind of important. He can’t go around calling Jimin by name when he isn’t even supposed to know who he is. He feigns ignorance, smiling as if he’s shy.

 

“Jeon Jungkook.”

 

“Park Jimin.”

 

Jimin reaches a hand out. Jungkook is almost too quick to take it, gripping the hand he’s comfortable with already. It’s a warmth he knew he was missing but didn’t know exactly how much until he finally held it again. His hands are small enough that Jungkook’s own could encompass them completely like he did so many times when Jimin would complain about the cold. He waits for Jimin pull his hand away first. He takes his phone out of the side pocket in his duffle bag, opening it with the code Jungkook can’t see but still knows. Five, six, six, five.  _Kook_. He hands the phone to Jungkook, who types his name and number, then gives it back.

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow if that’s okay,” Jimin says, smiling again. He’s trying to kill Jungkook with it.

 

“Of course.”

 

Jungkook doesn’t want to say goodnight just yet, because things need to move faster than this is going to work out for Jungkook. But if Jimin was aware of Jungkook’s desperate time crunch, he wouldn’t still be outside. Jungkook wouldn’t be holding back tears when Jimin turns around to go home, leave him alone again. Jungkook doesn’t want to be lonely. He wants to be with Jimin.

 

Jungkook coughs into his hand to hold back tears that threaten to fall from just the thought of being without Jimin again. Staying strong and hiding his love is the only way he’s ever going to have Jimin again, crying would just confuse him. He hiccups, holding back a sob. Jimin doesn’t notice, waving to Jungkook as he punches in the code Jungkook already knows, disappearing behind the large glass doors.

 

“Don’t fall in love without me,” Jungkook whispers, letting the tears fall once he’s sure Jimin can’t see him anymore.

 

Back home, he takes the calendar off the wall and sits down with a red pencil in his hand, crossing off the number seventeen. He has the number twenty-four circled to remind him how long he has. Six days, now. Six days to save a life and win Jimin back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends at 1:53 of the [MV](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZJnZD1UbA8%20) if you want to follow it. And thank you to my friend [BTSbeta](http://btsbeta.tumblr.com/) for helping me with the editing!


	2. Foolishly, I Guess I Loved You Too Foolishly

“Sorry for making you meet me so early.”

 

“I was up anyways,” Jungkook says, meeting Jimin’s smile with his own. _The faster we move forward, the better._

 

He and Jimin sit across from each other, the cafe providing a comfortable atmosphere for Jungkook to relax after an entire night of no sleep. He hadn’t even closed his eyes last night, the fear of screwing up and losing Jimin a second time eating at his mind. Not even the hope of this “date” could console his intrusive thoughts. Even so, he continues to smile.

 

Now, as they sit in silence across from each other, the situation seems so surreal that Jungkook can’t find anything to talk about. He looks around for anything to comment on, any small talk he can make that they didn’t already discuss over the phone. It’s no surprise that Jungkook didn’t learn anything new about Jimin, though today, Jimin learned small things about Jungkook, like how Jungkook enjoys walking over driving or taking public transportation. He also learned about Jungkook’s passion and was surprised to hear that Jungkook attends a school of entertainment to pursue his dream of being a solo idol. It’s the same university he met Jimin at, but Jimin will never know this. Jimin will forever remember their first meeting as the time Jungkook almost knocked both of them over outside the chapel. Which, for Jungkook, was the best thing to happen to him as he went through the most heart-wrenching day in his life.

 

When Jimin’s eyes wander the cafe, Jungkook feels the freedom to stare. Just for a little bit. He stares at the ring on Jimin’s tapping finger and how the gold contrasts the dull brown of the chair. He stares at Jimin’s lips parting with every breath and even counts them.  

 

_I love you,_ Jungkook is dying to say to break the silence. Instead, he looks away as if he wasn’t staring at all. Behind Jimin, a promotion poster hangs on the wall announcing Jimin’s dance team and the location of their next show. The location is followed by the date January twenty-four, reminding Jungkook of the small number of days he has. That was the performance that killed Jimin.

 

“What do you do for fun?” Jungkook asks, tearing his mind away from Jimin’s death. He’s alive. He won’t die because Jungkook won’t let him. Dwelling on it will do nothing but hurt Jungkook.

 

Jimin’s eyes snap back and, proudly, he says, “I dance!” The topic has always gotten him hyped. Whether it’s about what he did during practice that day or what the instructor said about a new choreography they were going to learn, Jimin has never been able to sit still when thinking about it. In the past, he told Jungkook that every time he dances he feels like it’s the first time he’s ever experienced fun.

 

“You seem excited about it,” Jungkook says. This time, his smile isn’t forced. He got to see Jimin happy, and that makes him happy.

 

“It’s my passion,” Jimin says. He stares out the window and into the studio across the street. Jungkook wishes that Jimin would look at him with that loving gaze again.

 

“How long have you been dancing?”

 

Jimin turns back. “Almost twelve years, now.”

 

_Eleven and a half._

 

“I started in contemporary when I was little and dabbled in hip-hop for a while.”

 

_And you switched because you wanted to be like the kind of dancers you saw on TV. You auditioned at four different companies, and you were accepted by three._

 

“So, you’re pretty good, then?”

 

Jimin looks at his feet, a shy smile gracing his lips. “Some people say that.”

 

“I’m sure it’s true...”

 

Jungkook bites his lip. Is this flirting too much? Does Jimin even think he’s flirting? Flirting is the last thing he wants to have to do with Jimin. Skipping right to the hand holding and kissing would be ideal—then again, not being in the position where he _has_ to flirt at all would be _most_ ideal.

 

One of the “cute” baristas comes out with their coffee, pausing their conversation. Neither she nor Jungkook miss the wink Jimin sends her way after she sets the steaming kettle down between Jimin and Jungkook. When she giggles, Jungkook cringes.

 

“After you,” Jimin offers, sliding the kettle Jungkook’s way once she’s left.

 

Jimin seldom drinks coffee. He prefers softer, less bitter drinks, so Jungkook is surprised when Jimin forgoes the sugar before pouring his own. Jungkook, unthinking, scoops a cube into Jimin’s cup and sits back.

 

Jimin doesn’t smile and thank him. He stares at Jungkook, and Jungkook’s breath catches as he  realizes he let his old habits get the best of him. He brings his own cup to his lips, ignoring what he let slip and hopes Jimin does too. The coffee is hotter than he expects and Jungkook coughs when he takes his first sip, all but slamming the cup onto the table. He’s a mess, but Jimin laughs at him. His smile make everything better again, even if he’s laughing _at_ Jungkook instead of _with_ him.

 

“How did you know?” Jimin asks as Jungkook struggles to recompose himself.

 

“Hm? Know what?”

 

“How did you know I took sugar in coffee?”

 

Jungkook shrugs. There is no better answer than silence. He blows on his coffee this time before taking another sip.

 

“So,” Jimin continues, “You know what I like to do now. What are _you_ passionate about?”

 

He’s passionate about Jimin. There is nothing in this world he wants more than to have him again. What else is there for him to live for?

 

“I like to sing, I guess,” Jungkook says, shrugging like it doesn’t matter what he says. He wants to hear Jimin talk, not himself.

 

“Can you sing me something right now?”

 

“No,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “I, uh, don’t really like to sing in public,” he lies.

 

“Oh,” Jimin sighs. “Sorry for asking.”

 

“Don’t be! It’s… a personal thing.”

 

The cafe is quiet enough that Jungkook tempted to change his mind, but he doesn’t, even though there is no way Jungkook is able to deny Jimin _anything_. But it might make him want to cry again. The last time he sang to Jimin, it was a song he had written himself. It was the song Jimin was listening to on his phone when he crossed the street. It was the song that played louder than the screeching tires.

 

“You have to let me hear you sometime. Promise me?”

 

Jungkook nods. “Okay.” He blinks away threatening tears and says, “Maybe we can see each other again tomorrow? I’ll sing you something then.”

 

“I’d love that.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Jungkook can’t contain his happiness from escaping through a laugh. Jimin raises an eyebrow, asking if Jungkook is laughing at him, but Jungkook shakes his head and looks away. _Everything will be okay._ He doesn’t have to worry about rushing into things. He has forever to make Jimin love him again, and forever is a long time when you don’t have to spend it alone.

 

When the waitress comes out to bring them their check, Jungkook snatches it before Jimin can. He ignores Jimin’s complaints and pays with an average tip. The service was fast, the atmosphere was nice, and he might give more on another occasion, but the way the waitress keeps eyeing Jimin like she has a chance with him—Jimin’s flirty grin insinuating he would give her one—makes Jungkook wish they had gone somewhere else for their second first date.

 

 

Jungkook holds an umbrella ready at his side as they exit the cafe together.

 

“Why do you have an umbrella?” Jimin asks, watching the sky. “It’s not raining.”

 

Jungkook grins and pretends he didn’t hear Jimin. He lived today only a week ago—how stupid would he have to be to come unprepared? He glances at the time on his phone, then pulls his umbrella up, opening it above them, not waiting to see Jimin’s reaction as the first drop hits the ground right by his feet. Jimin laughs, huddling under the umbrella with Jungkook and he doesn’t pull away when Jungkook wraps his arm around his shoulders. Instead, he leans in to avoid the rain. And in this moment, Jungkook smiles bigger than he has since the last time he held Jimin, before the death that he won’t let happen again.

 

* * *

 

 

Another tissue hits the metal can, bounces off. Another tear soaks into the ugly green blanket. Jungkook will see Jimin again in just a couple hours, but the anxiety of what could happen between now and then had hit Jungkook the second he walked into his house and found that it was missing Jimin’s shoes and coat.  

 

He’s always wondering what Jimin is up to. Last night, he couldn’t sleep again. He sat awake on his bed reading and re-reading their second first text-conversation.

 

 

_Jimin ♥_

**_hey_ **

 

_Jungkook_

**_Hey!_ **

 

_Jimin ♥_

**_thanks again for saving my life :)_ **

 

Not yet, _Jungkook thinks._

 

_Jungkook_

**_No problem! I’m glad I met you because of it_ **

 

Was that too much?

 

_Jimin ♥_

**_same here_ **

 

_Jimin ♥_

**_sorry it’s so soon but I should be sleeping. just wanted to make sure this was you_ **

 

_Jungkook_

**_You should sleep then. And stay healthy, you know?_ **

 

_Jimin ♥_

**_thanks, you too!_ **

 

_Jimin ♥_

**_goodnight!_ **

 

_Jungkook_

**_Goodnight. Stay away from crosswalks for a bit_ **

 

_Jimin ♥_

**_haha, will do :)_ **

 

_[Draft saved 11:50 p.m.]_

**_I love you_ **

 

 

And when they are finally back together, when is a good time to tell Jimin what happened? Will Jungkook ever be able to tell him? What good would it do? What harm? Would it even affect him? He might not even believe Jungkook. Jimin might leave him, thinking he’s crazy. Is Jungkook crazy? Would Jimin ever really leave him? What’s going to happen if he dies again?

 

Jungkook chokes out another fit of sobs into the blanket. He can’t live another day without Jimin. His own motivation to live would be destroyed. Not even his songs could get him through a life without Jimin, because a life without Jimin isn’t living—it’s just breathing.

 

Jungkook coughs into the blanket again, hard enough to hurt his throat. He's lightheaded, cold, and numb but also too hot at the same time, like his body is made of ice, set on fire. The first day Jimin was gone, despite the pain he felt, Jungkook had to smile like it didn’t affect him. He showed up to classes, got his work done, and accepted the flowers from close friends that also knew Jimin.

 

Does anyone else know Jimin is back? Would they remember he died? Is Jungkook really in this alone, or is there someone he can go to? So many people had mourned for Jimin—his dance crew, friends, family, and his fans—but no one knew him like Jungkook, and no one could understand how hard it was for him not to run out of the chapel crying after seeing Jimin in a coffin. Jimin wasn’t even smiling. He must have been in so much pain when he died.

 

Another fit of sobs erupts from Jungkook’s throat, and he searches for something, _anything_ to take his mind away, an outlet for what he’s feeling. Seeing the sticky-notes he left out, Jungkook shoots up from the couch, scrambles for a pen, and drops himself in front of his coffee table to begin scribbling down the first words that pop into his mind.

 

 

_Letting you go without any expression, as if it’s nothing—_

_I practiced that every day, but it’s still awkward_

 

_I also practiced how to secretly cry while smiling but_

_I feel like my trembling voice will give it away quickly_

 

 

Jungkook’s hand gives out before he can write another line, and he tosses the notes across the room. It hits the metal trash bin and bounces off.

 

After crossing one more day off the calendar in red pencil, Jungkook curls himself up in his blanket, closes his eyes, and prays that seeing Jimin tomorrow will help numb the pain. When he falls asleep, he dreams about his first encounter with Jimin. 

 

* * *

 

 

_When Jungkook looks up, he doesn't expect to see a crowd in the studio. But there they are, a group of six student-aged boys watching him. When did they get there? Had they heard Jungkook recording?_

 

_He slides his headphones to his neck, raising his eyebrow at Hongki through the sound-proof glass. Next to his friend, the group of students keep their eyes on Jungkook. Some seem impressed, a couple won’t look at him, and one of them is staring directly at Jungkook as if he were made of gold. Oddly, it’s not unsettling._

 

_Jungkook leans into the mic, “Can I…” He clears his throat. He’s never had a problem when he’s singing in front of people, but he does have a slight problem when he doesn’t even notice that they’ve walked in. “Can I help you?”_

 

_His best friend and self-acclaimed “sound dude” motions Jungkook out of the booth. Jungkook places the headphones on the stand and steps out, looking from one student to the other whether they meet his gaze or not._

 

_“These are some possible future students,” Hongki explains. “They’re taking a tour of the campus.”_

 

_Jungkook nods but doesn’t say anything._

 

_“I hope you don’t mind, but I let them listen to your recording. They’re interested in the music program, which,” he turns to the staff accompanying them on the tour, “By the way, is one of the finest in the country. All of our students love it! It’s been around since the school was built...”_

 

_Hongki continues, but his voice fades out. Jungkook hears him but he can’t focus on his words, his mind fixated on the boy standing furthest away from him whose eyes haven’t left Jungkook since he looked up. Maybe it would be creepy if he wasn’t so outstandingly beautiful._

 

_Jungkook shakes the thought from his head when they catch each other staring. Only Jungkook looks away._

 

_“Jungkook?” Hongki pokes his shoulder, “You listening?”_

 

_“Yeah...” Jungkook lies. He’s too busy looking at the boy in front of him. He’s standing pigeon toed, his hands behind his back and his posture pure. Obvious signs of a dancer. He’s short—at least, shorter than Jungkook—and his dark brown hair hovers right over his eyes. His lips are parted and… and why is Jungkook paying this much attention?_

 

_“Since Jungkook_ clearly _wasn’t listening,” Hongki nudges him, bringing his mind back into the room, “Can you repeat the name of your group?”_

 

_“Bulletproof Boyscouts,” one of the boys, a taller one with bleach blond hair, answers._

 

_“Sounds nice, right, Jungkook?” Hongki turns back to Jungkook, who nods. “Ah, well, Jungkook is a little shy around strangers,” Hongki says. It’s another lie. Jungkook is about as social as they come. “Maybe you could introduce yourselves first?”_

 

_The brown haired boy is the first to step forward, saying, “I’m Park Jimin.”_

 

_“Park Jimin,” Jungkook repeats, testing how the name feels on his tongue. It’s a nice name. He wouldn’t mind a name like Park Jimin._

 

_“Kim Namjoon,” the tall blonde says. He holds out a hand, and Jungkook shakes it, despite his attention being only on Park Jimin._

 

_After hearing the rest of their introductions, Hongki finishes with Jungkook’s and his own introduction and encourages them to enjoy themselves on the rest of the tour._

 

_As the first five members turn to exit, Jimin leans towards Jungkook, not saying anything. Jungkook doesn’t shy away when Jimin scribbles a street name and some numbers on his palm in Sharpie, slipping a piece of paper into Jungkook’s pocket._

 

_“It’s a performance venue,” Jimin explains. “There’s a show this Friday. Mind meeting me there?”_

 

_“How will I find you?”_

 

_Jimin winks and smiles a perfect, award-winning smile before turning on his heel after the rest of the boys._

 

 

It was the first time Jungkook ever saw that smile. It was so bright, Jungkook felt like he had to look away from Jimin before his eyes started to hurt. Like he wasn’t ready to see something so pure.

 

 

_Three days later, Jungkook looks down at the faded note on his hand, then back up at the dome in front of him. Park Jimin, the boy from the campus tour, wants to meet him_ in there? _Jungkook stands still as hundreds, maybe_ thousands _of people swarm around him, all pushing each other aside to get to the door first. How the hell is Jungkook supposed to find him in a crowd of thousands? Now that he’s here, at an unfamiliar venue, he’s almost as lost on this street as he was in Jimin’s eyes._

 

_“You’ll just know,” Jimin had said as the door closed behind him._

 

_Jungkook steps to the side to avoid being hit by a mob of fangirls that push past him to get inside, shoving people out of the way as if their seat might disappear if they don’t hurry. As if they don’t have tickets. Jungkook takes a deep breath, pulling out his own ticket, the one Jimin gave him. It looks more like a badge than the ones he sees everyone else holding. Like a VIP pass. Maybe Jimin works in the back?_

 

_Stepping into the venue for the first time, Jungkook is overcome by the amount of energy radiating off the fans, and he hasn’t even left the lobby. Is this where_ he _could be one day? Singing on stage in front of thousands of people as they cheer for him? It’s not completely irrational; he knows how good of a voice he has. Maybe one day people will fall for his voice as much as these fans have fallen for the performer here tonight._

 

_Jungkook thinks he could never fall for someone like that, though. They’d be gone too often, always come home tired, and have a million other people wanting to be in his position. Plus, he doesn’t have time, and he knows he’s a lot to take care of. He’s often leaving messes everywhere, always late to classes, never sleeping enough or sleeping in too much, and he can never regulate his eating habits._

 

_Another cluster of fans brush past him and Jungkook huffs. The place is filling up so fast, he’s not sure he’ll find Jimin before it’s over; it’s not like he gave him a phone number with the address. Did he expect Jungkook to look for him the whole time?_

 

_“I’ll just know, huh?” he says to no one. “Where the hell do I find Park Jimin in this crowd?”_ I can’t even get to seating yet…

 

_“He comes on stage second!” a girl pipes up from next to him. She’s holding a signed poster under one arm, and her friend holds a plastic fan with what he assumes are the performers’ faces. One looks a lot like Jimin, only, with more makeup and fancier clothes than the hoodie, cap, and jeans he was wearing when Jungkook met him. But that smile… There is no way that smile could be anyone's but…_

 

_“Hurryyyy,” her friend urges. “It’s starting! You_ know _I can’t miss Yoongi’s entrance!” she squeals and tugs at the other girl’s arm. Soon, they are lost in the crowd._

 

_Jungkook turns to the main stage when a beat drops, shaking the ground. Screams erupt and the remaining unseated fans scramble to their seats. Jungkook follows the numbers to a section and seat his ticket has on it and the second he looks up at the stage, about twenty feet in front of him, he sees that smile. He sees Park Jimin, a heartthrob, dolled-up in makeup and the skinniest black jeans Jungkook has ever seen in person._

 

_His orange-dyed hair bounces as he steps out to wave at the crowd. For no more than a second, he seems to be looking at Jungkook._ Directly _at him. Something about this look seems to say,_ I knew you would come, _before it turns smug, and he gazes out at the rest of the crowd just as fast._

 

_Jungkook heart beats louder than the bass through the whole concert._

 

 

The third time he sees Jimin, he’s backstage.

 

 

_“Jungkook, right?” the one with the mint-green hair named Yoongi, or “Suga”, according to the crowd, checks him over. It makes Jungkook uneasy._

 

_Jungkook had tried to leave right when the concert ended, even though it was an amazing experience. They are all talented performers. They sang beautifully. Jimin sang too beautifully, his voice almost as radiant as his smile. But halfway through the concert, Jungkook felt like if he heard any more of Jimin’s voice—saw him move his hips that way, hold that smile through most of the difficult choreography—he was going to go insane._

 

_He felt like he was looking up at Jimin from underwater and drowning in the crowd, but Jungkook doesn’t just want to be part of the crowd, or just the singer he met at a university. Screw what he thought about not falling in love. He wants Jimin._

 

_Yoongi’s words still linger, leaving the atmosphere of the dressing room stale. There are seven people crowding it, and the lights are too bright for Jungkook to come up with a response._

 

_Yoongi looks somewhat familiar from the university tour, but Jungkook doesn’t remember Yoongi taking particular interest in him or learning his name. He was too focused on fawning over the sound equipment, from what Jungkook can remember._

 

_But Yoongi knows his name now. Which means… Jimin talked about him? Remembered his name?_

 

_“Mhm,” is the only response Jungkook can come up with. Why is he nervous? It’s not like he’s one of their fans. All the fans have left by now._

 

_“Full name?” Yoongi asks, his voice skeptical._

 

_“Jeon Jungkook,” he says louder._

 

_“We already know,” Taehyung, a.k.a. V, says, rolling his eyes. “Yoongi is just giving you a hard time because Jiminie bragged about your voice in the dressing room for hours.” He puts his hand on Jimin’s shoulder, whom Jungkook had been avoiding eye contact with since the end of the concert, and pokes at his cheek._

 

_Jungkook finds his face heating up, blaming it on the heat from the venue. With so many people, it would be hard to circulate fresh air all the time._ That’s _why Jungkook is flushed._

 

_“Aren’t you going to deny it?” Taehyung teases Jimin._

 

_Jimin shakes his head, a grin on his face as he says, “No,” Jimin locks eyes with Jungkook. “He’s worth bragging about.”_

 

_Even though he’s easily a few centimeters taller, Jungkook feels so small under his gaze. The room falls silent, and nothing but the squeaking of the janitor’s cart from the hall and faint footsteps can be heard. Neither of them blink, and they seem to forget about the other five people in the dressing room with them._

 

_“Get a room…” Yoongi mumbles._

 

_Jungkook clears his throat. “I should probably head back home—”_

 

_“You can’t stay and talk for a little bit?” Jimin interrupts. Jungkook wants to say no, but with Jimin, he feels trapped. It’s like he’s hanging from wires on every word he says._

 

_Even after the rest of the members leave to pack up, Jimin stays. The two sit in the dressing room staring at each other again, this time with no one to interrupt them. No sarcastic comment to keep them from drifting closer together. No Yoongi to stop Jimin’s hand from cupping Jungkook’s cheek, sending a wave of static through his veins._

 

_Jungkook’s hands grip the makeup table behind him. He can’t breathe, can’t do anything to resist, which is on his mind even though it’s the last thing he wants to do right now._

 

_“I don’t usually get like this around people I just met,” Jimin says, not taking his eyes of Jungkook’s lips._

 

_Jungkook shakes his head, “It’s okay. I don’t either. But it just feels like we’re supposed to be like this… Sorry if that’s weird!”_

 

_Jimin laughs, his cinnamon-scented breath ghosting over Jungkook’s face. He shudders._

 

_“Don’t apologize. I feel the same way, Jungkook.”_

 

_Something about the way he says his name. Something about the closeness. Something about Jimin’s lips brushing over his own. It sets him off, and he tugs at the belt loops of Jimin’s too-tight pants._

 

_Their lips connect, Jimin’s feeling so, so,_ so right _meshed against his own. He can’t breath again. He’s drowning in Jimin, and he’s unsure what he wants to do. What_ can _he do? Why does this feel like it was meant to happen, predestined?_

 

_Jungkook feels himself getting lightheaded and he snaps his eyes open, taking a sharp inhale through his nose before pulling back. Jimin looks up at him through half-lidded eyes. They close when he pulls Jungkook back into a more intentional kiss._

 

_The taste of cinnamon creeps into Jungkook’s mouth, and instinctively, Jungkook licks at it. He pulls back when he realizes he might have just overstepped his boundaries—that he just accidentally licked Park Jimin’s lips. He’s an idol. Jungkook just kissed an idol with_ tongue.

 

_“I’m sor—”_

 

_“I already told you not to apologize.”_

 

_Their lips connect again and Jimin's hands find Jungkook’s to lace their fingers as he leans into the kiss. This time, it’s on purpose when Jungkook licks at Jimin’s bottom lip. He’s overcome by the taste of cinnamon and soon finds it’s because of the small mint hidden under Jimin’s tongue._

 

_Jimin giggles, pulling away. “I forgot about that,” he whispers. The taste lingers even after it dissolves. Jungkook finds he likes this taste too much and lets it sit on his tongue. He almost forgets to move until Jimin presses himself closer at a different angle._

 

_They don’t get too far into the kiss this time before they hear footsteps walking up to the door they forgot to close. Jungkook pushes off the counter, and Jimin detaches himself just as Hoseok peeks past the entrance._

 

_“Jimin,” he says, his tone flat. He eyes Jungkook. Both of their lips are red and a little bit swollen from making out, and Hoseok can see this. He shakes his head. “It’s time to grab your stuff.”_

 

_“Now?” Jimin asks. Hoseok smiles._

 

_“No, tomorrow, obviously. Come on, we’re heading back to the hotel.”_

 

_The last word is a bucket of ice to Jungkook’s face. Jimin is an idol. He doesn’t live here. He’ll be gone within a couple days, and it will be all over for Jungkook. Because Jungkook is just one of thousands, maybe millions worldwide that are infatuated by Jimin. He wonders if he’s just one of many that Jimin has picked up before a concert and kissed after._

 

_Jungkook blinks away a tear before it falls._

 

_“Okay,” Jimin says to Hoseok. “I’ll be there in a minute.”_

 

_Hoseok nods, leaving the door wide open behind him. Jimin lets out a breath that Jungkook didn’t know he had been holding and turns back to Jungkook. He tugs him down by the collar of his jacket and captures his lips one more time. Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to react before Jimin is pulling away again, his eyes half-lidded and cheeks red, even through the makeup._

 

_“Do you still have room on that hand?” he asks._

 

_“I, uh—yeah. Why?”_

 

_Jimin finds a pen on the makeup table, takes Jungkook’s hand, and scribbles out two more lines of numbers. One has ten digits, and the other follows the name of a hotel Jungkook doesn’t recognize._

 

_“This is—”_

 

_“Jimin! We’re leaving!”_

 

_“This is the room number, and in case you get lost, my number, too. It’s my personal—”_

 

_“Bye, Jimin!” Taehyung calls. Jimin groans._

 

_“Thankyoufortonightcallmeokay?” After leaving Jungkook with one more kiss, Jimin is gone._

 

_Jungkook is still lightheaded, but he manages to find his way back to the lobby. It’s raining out the double doors, and Jungkook has to shove his hands deep into his pockets so the rain doesn’t wash away his only hope of seeing Jimin again._

 

 

The fourth time he saw Jimin, it was like two magnetic poles that just couldn’t meet…

 

 

_“So you’re telling me goodbye?”_

 

_“Jungkook,” Jimin sighs, “I promised we’ll see each other again.”_

 

_“How do you know that?” Jungkook stands up from the bed, furious for a reason he can’t understand. He should have known from the second he started falling for the idol that Jimin can’t stay his. Jimin is an object of affection. He’s only here temporarily. A month, maybe two, and then he’s gone._

 

_Well, Jungkook_ did _know this. He just didn’t want to accept it. He couldn’t accept himself to be one of millions. No matter how many times Jimin kissed his tears away, reassured him that Jungkook is the only one he’ll look at, Jungkook couldn’t believe him. He trusts Jimin, but what he promised is impossible for someone like him to hold on to. Someone who practically lives in hotels, makes his money through sex appeal and flirting with strangers whom he’ll never see again. Someone whom Jungkook will only see twice a year for holidays and, if he’s lucky, a birthday._

 

_He’d be ready to cut it off here—cut off the last two blissful months with his first love—if he didn’t feel pushed into a corner. Emotionally and physically. Jimin has his hands in Jungkook’s own, pushing Jungkook into the hotel wall behind him, the ugly brown wallpaper cold against his back. Jimin brings Jungkook down to his level, pushing himself into Jungkook and sliding his tongue past his lips without hesitation. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss, either. Jimin’s usual cinnamon flavor overwhelms the salty taste of his tears, and he lets Jimin guide him to the hotel bed._

 

_The feather comforter cushions his fall when Jimin presses him down, crawling over him and bringing his lips to both of Jungkook’s cheeks._

 

_“I made a promise that I’ll make us work,” he says after a kiss. “And I keep—” another kiss “—my promises.”_

 

_“I’m not sure what that means,” Jungkook whispers._

 

_“It means I won’t ever really leave you.”_

 

_“Good.”_

 

_Jimin laughs, recapturing Jungkook’s lips. He brings his hands up to Jungkook’s waist, cautious, as they’ve never passed making out on Jungkook’s couch before. Jungkook doesn’t protest when Jimin bends back the hem of his sweatpants, leaving his hands there while he kisses Jungkook. It’s comfortable, it’s nice, it’s_ right.

 

_“Keep going?” Jungkook breathes into the kiss._

 

_The rest of the boys are out shopping or asleep in other rooms; this is the first time they’ve been alone this way since Jimin snuck out to Jungkook’s apartment one night. He was scolded the next morning by their manager, and they agreed that from then on, Jungkook would meet them at their hotel. Because there are six other boys trying to share a space, there was never an opportunity to have each other to themselves._

 

_It excites Jungkook more than he would like to admit._

 

_Jimin rests his head in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, inhaling, exhaling, kissing and marking. Jungkook closes his eyes and turns his head to the side to let Jimin have his way. He helps Jimin tug his pants down now that they’ve both mentally agreed that they want this from each other. With each other. For each other._

 

_Jungkook’s hand comes up to Jimin’s hair when Jimin slides his hand up Jungkook’s shirt. It’s a plain, loose white t-shirt that slides off easily, leaving Jungkook in only one piece of clothing. He isn’t embarrassed or scared, though he is cold. Fortunately, Jimin’s breath is hot over his chest, sending shivers down his spine. It’s the kind of shivers of anticipation felt when you’re at the top of a rollercoaster about to drop. Or when the person you love is finally so close, and you want the moment to last forever, like Jungkook knows they both do._

 

_Small moans slip past Jimin’s lips, and gasps escape Jungkook’s when Jimin’s tongue tickles Jungkook’s exposed torso. In all his nineteen years of life, Jungkook has never come this far with anyone, so he didn’t know what to expect when it first happened. Now, he couldn’t be happier that it’s with Jimin and that he’s enjoying it just as much as Jungkook is._

 

_He grips Jimin’s hair, whispering his name when Jimin moves lower to his abdomen. He tries to slow his breathing, but it’s hard when Jimin is making him feel so good. Jimin continues to use light nips on Jungkook’s stomach that make him laugh, distracting him while he pulls the last garment of clothing off, exposing Jungkook completely. Jungkook cares less than he thought he would when seen this way for the first time. They’ve been ready since the day they met to be this close. Now, they finally get to experience it._

 

_“You’re beautiful, Jungkook. I hope you know that,” he whispers with another kiss._

 

_“You are too.”_

 

_“Thank you.”_

 

_Not long after the words leave Jimin’s lips, he indulges himself in Jungkook. His movements are light and caring, and he won’t stop looking up to Jungkook to confirm that what he is doing is okay. Jungkook is quick to respond with a small_ yes _or a gasp of Jimin’s name._

 

_When it comes time for Jimin to strip and prepare himself, Jungkook is ready to take whatever Jimin will offer him. Jimin had taken exceptional care of him—so much so that he hardly needs time to adjust. Still, Jimin uses every precaution with more preparation than needed and makes extra_ extra _sure everything goes smoothly._

 

_Even after Jungkook is a moaning mess, clutching Jimin’s shoulders and_ begging _, he won’t do anything he thinks might hurt Jungkook. Not until he feels like Jungkook is comfortable enough._

 

_Their fingers intertwine when they both reach their limit, almost at the same time, and Jimin kisses Jungkooks hand. Whispers of “I’ll never leave you” and “I want you forever” flow from Jimin’s mouth without him realizing it, and the thought of anything ever being able to come between them diminishes._

 

_Jungkook tells Jimin he loves him, not expecting him to say it back. It’s only been two months, after all, despite the eternity it feels like. Jimin says it back as they settle into the bed together, now cleaned and exhausted._

 

_“I’m just a fool that can’t live without you, Park Jimin,” Jungkook whispers into Jimin’s hair, kissing the top of his head._

 

_“I could say the same to you.”_

 

_“Then I guess we’re both idiots.”_

 

The fifth time he sees Jimin, it’s been months. Almost a year, in fact. A year too long. Jungkook heard about what happened with his band, how the beloved Park Jimin had mysteriously left to pursue a local career in dance. Only Jungkook knew the truth as to why he left the members he loved like brothers: There was someone he loved more.

 

_“The baristas here are cute,” Jimin says when he finally sits down across from Jungkook, who scoffs._

 

_“And here I thought you came back because of me. You just missed the aprons,” Jungkook teases._

 

_It’s the first time in too long they’ve seen each other in person, been able to make direct eye contact. Jimin promised that every time he looked into the camera, he pretended Jungkook was right on the other side. Though in a way he was, Jimin couldn’t see him. Maybe this is the reason Jimin’s number one quality was voted to be his intense gaze. To Jungkook, though, it will always be his smile._

 

_When they have both received their orders of cake and coffee (that Jimin had insisted was his treat), Jimin leans over the table and pulls him in for a kiss that lasts an eternity too short._

 

_“I think letting you go would be more severe than dying.”_

 

_“Don’t say things like that. I won’t let either of those happen.”_

 

_“You could have had everything as an idol,” Jungkook says to change the subject._

 

_Jimin laughs, “You’re already my everything._

 

* * *

 

 

The painful sound of squealing tires pulls Jungkook away from his sleep.

 

It was just a dream. Just a dream that seemed so real. He would call it a flashback, but in this world, Jimin didn’t die. The tire marks haven’t burned the pavement yet, and Jimin’s blood hasn’t stained the concrete. Jungkook is fine. Jimin is fine. Jimin is going to make it out of this reality alive—Jungkook will make sure of it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on my writing blog [stfyoongi](http://stfyoongi.tumblr.com/)!


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